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for a piece of land....

The pungent smell of mud in the air woke him up.....
the old peasant...was dreaming of rain...
and of golden corns.....how he nurtured....
He woke up from his slumber....It was no dream....
the rain outside was reality....

He took his son to the Piece of land...he owned....
He ploughed all across...till dawn...
His fragile hands almost gave up...but the old farmer knew the values...
He watched his fertile...harrowed land with his sleep-laced eyes...embracing his son...

An old man was lying inert on the field.....the old peasant's....
Thick blood was spilled into the mud....was he shot?
The woman was silent...shell shocked.....
And the son was crying....
The man,unknown in a silk suit was giving solace to her....was rhetorical...
He didn't know the rustic language....

The poor old framer wakes up from his sullen dream....

Comments

Anonymous said…
punchy one mate!!..keep em comin.ayan.
March 26, 2009 at 9:46 PM
Anonymous said…
for the farmer in your poem...
"wake wake
ur land is at stake
wake wake
ur dignity is at stake
wake wake
ur pride is at stake
wake wake
ur land is at stake
fight fight
with all ur might..."(incomplete)
[song by kabir suman]
khub sundor depiction of a farmer's misery while losing his land(livelihood)...excellent realization.
March 27, 2009 at 8:02 AM
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